Don't Wake Daddy!
by Jingle For Goldfish
Summary: Oneshot. The Cartwright boys stumble home after a night well spent.


It wasn't just dark out. It was a dense, pervading darkness, the kind that blots out a person's eyes with a wad of black cotton and makes him feel like his eyelids have been sewn shut, even though he can feel them fluttering against his brow. The moon was out—if you could really call the pathetic sliver of yellow peeping through the misty clouds a moon. Needless to say, it wasn't helping.

"Confound it, Hoss, would you hold him steady?"

"M doin' the best I can right now," came the boy's slightly slurred response. Adam rolled his eyes, but nobody could see him do it.

"Heyyyyy!" said Little Joe.

"Shut it, boy," hissed Adam. "You want Pa to wake up?"

"Ssssorry!" His voice became a whisper, but it wasn't a much softer one. "Hey, Adammm… Uh'mmm fine. Yyyou donnn' haft'help… me."

"Like hell I don't," said Adam. "Hoss, for chrissake, stop your lumbering!"

"Don' say 'chrissake,'" said Hoss.

"Don't _you_ say chrissake."

"Tha'sssscussin'!" offered Little Joe.

"Hush up," said Hoss.

They managed to get him to the front porch. As Adam fumbled for the latch, Little Joe reached out and, giggling, rapped twice on the door before Hoss caught the boy's fist in his own.

"Whaddaya think yer doin'?" he snarled.

"Got it," said Adam, and they were inside.

The lights were all out. Ben was still asleep, thank the heavens. All they had to do now was get upstairs and quietly into bed. They were home-free.

Little Joe seized up. The next moment, it was as if someone had grabbed his navel from the inside and wrenched it up through his stomach and into his throat. His shoulders rolled forward, and a day's worth of corn meal, salt pork, and half a gallon of hard liquor spilled forward to splatter on the dusty kitchen floor.

The sound it made was instantly recognizable. Adam and Hoss froze. Little Joe swooned in Adam's arms. Then Hoss started swearing up a storm, and it was all Adam could do to get him to stop.

"Shut _up_ already, would you? Jesus Mary and Joseph, am I the only one here who doesn't want to see us all get _killed?"_

"Aw, goddammit, Adam, he went and—!"

"I _know_ what he did," said Adam through gritted teeth. He lowered Little Joe to his knees. "You're okay," he said in a low voice. He rubbed the small of his back. "You'll be fine. Just relax."

Little Joe moaned in response.

"Hoss, go get a bucket of water and some towels."

"But, Adam—"

"I. Said. Go."

Each creak of the floorboards sent a chill down Adam's spine. Little Joe heaved again, but the splatter was smaller this time. Hoss returned with the supplies and crouched down beside them.

"Can't we jus' tell Pa he had flu or somethin'?"

"If Pa takes just one close look at him tomorrow, he'll know exactly what's wrong," said Adam. "I'm not taking any chances."

Hoss grumbled something that Adam didn't bother to investigate. A moment later, the two of them were scrubbing the floor. "We should use some soap," suggested Adam. "Lye. So it doesn't smell."

Hoss ran to grab it.

"You feeling better?" said Adam.

"Mmmm," said Joe.

And then he threw up again.

Nearly twenty minutes later, the floor was thoroughly freed of any kind of smell, except for that of the lye, which Adam promised would be gone by morning. Both his and Hoss's hands were red-raw, but neither was complaining. They cleared away the bucket and towels and got Little Joe, who appeared to be done getting sick, a glass of water.

"Jesus, but does he reek," said Hoss.

Adam took a small whiff and wrinkled his nose. "Ugh. Come on, let's get you outside. Hoss, light a candle, will you? I'm going to kill myself trying to work the pump out there."

Out by the water pump, with Hoss and a glowing candle standing by, Adam discovered a trail of leftovers running from Little Joe's chin all down the front of his shirt.

"That's disgustin'," said Hoss.

"Alright, Little Joe, it's okay," said Adam. His brother was having a harder and harder time staying awake. "You feeling any better now?"

"Yuh… yeah," said the boy.

Adam helped him take his shirt off. He splashed some water onto his face and cleared away the crust that had formed. "I'll hang onto this shirt for tonight. We can wash it in the morning. Hoss, what are you doing with that candle? Bring it closer, I can't see what I'm doing."

His brother didn't respond. Adam looked up, irritated. Hoss had frozen. When he saw what the kid was looking at, Adam paled, too.

There stood Ben Cartwright, arms folded across his chest, glaring down at them, a storm cloud about to burst.

"Pa!" said Adam, trying to quell the instinctive surge of panic that was rising inside of him. "Sorry we woke you, Pa. Little Joe wanted a drink, and Hoss and I were feeling thirsty, too, so we just took this quick little trip out here."

Little Joe grinned. "Hhhhey, Paw!"

He took one staggering step toward his father, then passed clear out on the dark grassy ground.


End file.
